


A Rapture So Sweet

by orphan_account



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, But Not Your Typical Soulmate Trope, Humor, M/M, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 08:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19437880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Kathy is stunned; Nate is blindsided; and Laura is amazed.Cale would really just like to make it somewhere private before Nate manages to get any of their clothes off.





	A Rapture So Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a complete work of fiction, and I make no profit for it. Also, I wrote this in the middle of the night, so apologies if it's a hot mess.
> 
> I was doing some research for a different fic, and I stumbled across another video of Cale's goal. I've seen it a hundred times, but apparently not enough because this was the first time I realized that Cale and Nate's parents are right next to each other. Nate's dad literally leans over to congratulate them after the goal. It's precious. Therefore, I had to immediately stop what I was doing and write a fic.
> 
> IMPORTANT: As advertised, this is not your typical soulmate trope because that did not fit my purposes. In this world, people only find out that they're soulmates when their parents (or guardians or older siblings or best friends--whoever is the person or people that have taken care of and loved them throughout their life) meet.

“What row is it again?” Kathy asks as they climb down the concrete steps, weaving between groups of teenagers taking selfies and little kids waving homemade signs.

“F,” Graham replies grumpily as he dodges a gaggle of giggling girls with different players’ numbers painted on their cheeks.

“Here it is!”

They shuffle passed the filled seats, and Kathy waves to a couple of the parents she recognizes from other games or team events, returning greetings and well wishes for the game.

“How about you take the far seat, so I can sit with Sarah,” she suggests, and Graham shrugs his agreement, filing by and settling himself in his assigned seat. Once Sarah has sat down, Kathy turns toward her, “So tell me about this Jacob you’ve been ‘hanging out’ with,” and she rolls her eyes fondly but answers all the questions about how they met, what he’s like, and when they’ll get to meet him.

“Excuse us, sorry,” a voice says from the left, thick with a western accent. “Pardon, our seats are just right over there.”

Kathy turns to see a couple shuffling down their row, and she quickly stands to let them by, waving away the woman’s apologies when she almost steps on her foot. There’s not much space between the rows; she knows how hard it can be not to bump anyone.

“Look Gary, there he is!” the woman tells her husband after they’ve made it to their seats, and she points out to the ice with a brilliant smile, one that Kathy has felt on her own face many times.

“I can’t believe this,” the man replies, awed. “This is crazy, absolutely crazy.” He pulls out his phone and snaps a couple of pictures. They’re sure to be blurry from this distance, but Kathy knows that doesn’t matter, not when it’s your kid out there, living his dream.

“Excuse me,” she says, leaning over Graham to smile at them, “I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Kathy, and this is Graham. Nate, number twenty-nine, is our son.”

The woman lights up. “It’s so nice to meet you,” she says, reaching a hand out to grasp Kathy’s. “I’m Laura, and this is my husband Gary. Our son is—”

The rest of the words are an indistinct muffle, fading into nothing as soon as Laura’s hand touches hers.

“Oh,” Kathy gasps, and her grip tightens around Laura’s fingers. “Oh my god.”

She thinks Graham might be saying something, tone curious and confused, but she can’t understand him, can’t think beyond ‘It’s happening, this is them, it’s a teammate, I wonder if Nate knows’.

When the world comes back into focus around her, the first thing she registers is the stupefied look on Laura’s face, eyes round as saucers as she gapes at Kathy.

“Oh my god,” Laura murmurs, voice hushed. “This is…I—we—Nate, you said?” she finally asks breathily, and Kathy nods, dazed from the sudden rush of them, him, _them_. “Honey,” Laura continues, turning to her husband who looks like he’s been hit over the head with a two-by-four, “which one is Nate again? I’m sorry,” she directs at Kathy, “it’s just so many new names. I haven’t been able to match names to faces yet.”

“It’s fine,” Kathy murmurs. “It’s fine. I didn’t, I didn’t actually catch your son’s name; I’m sorry. It was kind of lost in the rapture.”

Graham sucks in a breath beside her, finally understanding what’s transpired, and he turns to stare at her in shock. “Rapture?” he repeats, stunned. “These are—” he turns back to Gary and Laura, “you’re…”

Wide-eyed, Gary nods and holds a hand out to Graham.

\----

Nate’s shot goes wide, hand slipping at the last second as a burning wave of elation sweeps through him, unexpected and unfamiliar. He stares blankly at the spot where the puck ricocheted off the boards, trying to understand the sensations ripping through him.

“You nervous?” Gabe jokes when he skates passed, and Nate flings an arm out to snag his jersey, gloved fingers painfully tight in the thick material. Eyebrows dipping low, Gabe frowns at him. “Are you actually?” he asks quietly and takes a couple steps back, pulling Nate with him.

Nate shakes his head slowly, stunned.

“Okay.” Gabe drags the word out as he eyes him. “Then what’s up, man? You look like Sakic just told you that you’ve been traded to Detroit or something.”

“What—” Nate begins. “How did—” Jaw tight, he looks around to make sure no one is close enough to overhear before leaning in. “You and Mel are soulmates, right?” he asks, and Gabe’s brows shoot up.

“What?”

Nate bites down on a frustrated groan. “You’re soulmates, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but why are you asking me about this right now? We have a game that starts in twenty minutes. Why would you—” he suddenly cuts off. “Oh,” he breathes out in realization. “Nate, you didn’t—you’re not—this is a surprise meeting, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t—what was it like? When your parents met, what was it like?” he demands because he thinks he knows what this is, but he’s not sure, and he needs to be sure, needs to know without a shadow of a doubt. This is too important for almost sure or pretty positive.

Blowing out a long breath, Gabe says, “It was like the confirmation I had been looking for. It was this warm, peaceful, happy feeling that filled me up and made me certain that I’d found the right person, that I was meant to be with her.”

Nate nods at the words; he feels a bit sick but also overjoyed. It’s a strange combination.

“Do you feel that way, Nate?” Gabe asks in his serious Captain voice. “Do you think your parents met them?”

“I, I’m not, it’s—” he stammers, and Gabe shakes him gently.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I might throw up,” he admits.

Gabe nods in understanding. “That’s just the shock. It’s normal when you weren’t expecting the rapture, especially if you’re not seeing anyone.”

Nate’s stomach churns at the word, at the certainty, the inevitability of it.

“What else do you feel though?”

Standing in the corner of the rink as they prepare to start Game 3 of the first round of the Stanley Cup Playoffs, Nate wishes he could be anywhere else right now, wishes he could leave the ice and go see his parents, find out who they met, find out who he was made for.

“Nate,” Gabe says, sounding a bit impatient. “We don’t have any time to waste. What else do you feel?”

“Scared.”

Gabe huffs.

Nate swallows thickly. “But also weirdly calm. It’s like…I don’t know, I feel like I’m stuck on a boat in the middle of a storm with tons of rain and lightning everywhere. I know I should be freaking out and a part of me is, but there’s also this… I don’t know, this confidence that everything’s going to be okay. Like no matter what happens, no matter how high the waves get or how heavy the rain is, it’s going to be okay because…because I’m not alone.” He finishes in a whisper, and Gabe nods gravely.

“You’re not, not anymore.” He hooks an arm around Nate’s shoulders and guides him toward the tunnel, following the team as they file into the locker room for a final pregame speech. “And I’m sure you’re freaking out right now, and you have every right to, but don’t let it overwhelm you. We’ve got a game to win, and we need you out there with us, ready to play hard and kick some Flames ass.”

Speechless, Nate nods, replaying his own words over and over in his head.

I’m not alone. I’m not alone. I’m not alone.

They bring an odd sense of comfort.

\----

When the final horn sounds, Laura stands up with the rest of the crowd and cheers. For the victory, for Cale’s incredible debut and beautiful goal, for the assist from her…from her soul son that felt like something straight out of a fairytale.

She still can’t really believe it, is still trying to wrap her head around it.

Soulmate. They’ve found Cale’s soulmate.

She turns toward the MacKinnons, and Kathy catches her eye, shaking her head like she can’t believe it either, not the game, not the goals, and especially not the soul bond their sons apparently share. Good god.

“We should probably head down,” Gary tells her when the crowd around them begins to disperse, filling the narrow stairways as everyone tries to leave at once, and she nods.

“Yeah, we need to go see him. We need to go see them,” she amends, and the words feel strangely comfortable on her tongue.

“Nathan MacKinnon,” Gary laughs. “Cale has a soul bond with Nathan MacKinnon. Good grief, what a crazy night.”

It’s slow-moving up the stairs, and Laura is tempted a time or two to flag down one of the security guards and ask for an escort down to the locker room. She wouldn’t normally request any special treatment, more than willing to wait with everyone else, but she needs to see her son, now, needs to let him know who his soulmate is.

Throughout the game, she’d seem him looking their way, confusion and questions evident even from a distance, but there was nothing she could do, not in the middle of a game, not with thousands of people watching.

“Do you think they know yet?” Gary asks as they climb another step.

“About each other?” Laura asks. “Probably not. I can’t imagine Cale telling any of them that he raptured, not when they’ve only just met, and I don’t think Nate would be too willing to advertise it to the whole locker room either.”

Gary hums in thought. “Taylor’s going to be so upset that he missed this,” he comments with a wry smile. “I mean, he already wasn’t happy about not being able to come out for the game, but now this?”

“We need to call him as soon as we talk to Cale,” Laura says guiltily. She hasn’t even thought of Taylor since Kathy had first grabbed her hand, too overwhelmed by the game and the knowledge that she now had a soul son.

“If he asks to come out here, I’m going to let you be the one to say no.”

With a huffed laugh, Laura gets up the last step, and they follow Kathy and Graham through the crowd and into an elevator.

“Do we want to tell them together?” Kathy asks after the doors have slid shut, closing them off from the crowded concourse with all its listening ears.

“I don’t think we’d even have to tell them then,” Graham points out. “As soon as they realize they’re both coming over to talk to us, I think it’d be pretty obvious.”

“Yeah,” Gary agrees. “It might be better if we tell them separately. Then, they can have a minute or two on their own to absorb it before meeting each other as soulmates.”

Everyone nods in agreement, and Laura still can’t believe she’s standing in an elevator with her soul son’s parents.

\----

“How are you feeling? First game, first goal. Everyone’s very impressed.”

The reporter is holding a microphone emphatically in his face, pushing it forward until Cale has to resist the urge to either push back or shrink into his locker to avoid it.

“I’m feeling good,” he says, still short of breath. “It’s crazy to be here, crazy to finally be here, especially during the playoffs.”

“Obviously, you’ve been preparing for this moment for years,” another reporter asks, “but is there anything you weren’t expecting or maybe didn’t feel prepared for when you got on the ice tonight?”

Well, I didn’t expect to rapture during warm-ups.

“I think the atmosphere was even crazier than I expected,” he says instead. “And I think the altitude has me a little more short of breath than usual.” Everyone laughs in the awkward way they do when a bunch of grown adults are shoving microphones in a kid’s face. “But I think the guys have also done a great job helping me get ready for this. I know I haven’t been here very long, but they’ve all taken me in so quickly and have been a huge help in the transition from the NCAA to the NHL.”

“Scoring your first goal in the playoffs is pretty incredible. Have you ever felt that happy before?”

Yes, actually, forty minutes before I scored that goal I felt what most people consider the greatest joy known to humanity.

“I think winning World Juniors is right up there with that goal,” he says because that’s a safe answer.

“How’re you feeling heading into Game 4 with the lead?”

“Good. Obviously there’s a lot more work to do, but we’re ready for it.”

One of the PR people tells the reporters that questions are over and waves them out of the locker room, tsking each time they try and throw another question out.

EJ comes over and plops into Colesy’s empty stall. “That was a hell of a game, kid,” he says, patting him on the back. “You’re incredible.”

Cale lifts a shoulder humbly. “Thanks, you guys make it easy though, so I can’t take all the credit.”

Delighted, EJ laughs. “Listen to you,” he coos, shaking Cale good-naturedly. “Master of deflection and non-answers already. What is there even left to teach you?”

Cale ducks his head and shrugs modestly, grateful for the postgame flush that disguises the way his cheeks heat in embarrassment. “It’s true though. I wouldn’t have had that goal without Nate’s pass.”

EJ flaps a dismissive hand. “Nate’s pass was okay, nothing special.”

“Hey!” Nate shouts from across the locker room in nothing but his compression shorts.

Cale’s mouth feels a bit dry, though that might just be the elevation.

“It was an okay pass,” EJ insists. “Cale was the one with the sick moves, settling it and going five-hole like a fucking pro.” He throws an arm around Cale’s shoulders and shakes him excitedly. “You deserve a beer for that.”

“He’s not legal to drink,” Gabe pipes up like he’s anything resembling responsible.

“He is in Canada, and that’s all that matters.”

“I’m actually hanging out with my family tonight,” Cale tells them before Gabe can press the issue.

“What?” EJ squawks. “Your family? You would choose them over us?”

Cale eyes him strangely. “Absolutely,” he says, and the guys howl in amusement, chirping EJ and only laughing harder when he tries to say anything else.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Cale hurries to the showers and cleans up as quickly as possible. The sooner he’s done, the sooner he can see his parents and find out who the hell his soulmate is.

He’s dressed before most of the guys are out of their pads, and he tosses a quick goodbye over his shoulder as he hustles out the door, scanning the hallway for his parents.

“Cale!” someone shouts, and he turns to see his mom waving, grinning from ear to ear. “That was such a good game,” she says when they’re closer and throws her arms around his shoulders. “Such a good game. Sweetheart, you were amazing, just amazing. Those blocked shots and that goal, that goal from—you were so good!”

Cale returns the hug fiercely. “Couldn’t have done it without you guys,” he murmurs.

Gary drags him forward next, arms locking tightly around him. “You did so well. I don’t even have the words. You were great. You’re going to fit right in. In the NHL, in Denver.” His voice hitches strangely on the last word.

“Yes,” Laura agrees, sounding choked up. Cale pulls back to look at them, taking in the twin expressions of bittersweet joy. “This is exactly where you’re meant to be.”

It dawns on him then. “Mom, I raptured,” he says, fumbling the word. “I felt it during warmups. I know it. Who is it? Are they here? Can I—”

“Cale,” someone calls, loud and demanding, and he turns toward the voice.

Looking like he’s about to plow through the defense and slide a greasy shot under the goalie’s glove, Nate strides across the hallway, face set. Cale only has a moment to register the heated look in his eyes and the flicker of anticipation that settles low in his belly before Nate crashes into him, arms circling his waist like a vice as he presses their mouths together.

There are several sharp inhales and shocked exclamations, but Cale does not care because this is him. This is his soulmate. He knows it; he can feel it in his bones.

Nate’s tongue slides across the seam of his lips, wet and insistent, and Cale opens to him without a thought beyond yes, mine, now. At the first press of their tongues, one of them—both of them?—makes a truly obscene sound, something between a keen and a whine that has Cale’s toes curling in his shoes.

“Nathan!” a woman shouts, and Cale’s certain that’s his mom, Cale’s soul mother. He briefly thinks about pulling away to greet her properly because this is not at all the first impression he had planned to make when he eventually met his soul parents, but Nate just pulls him closer, pressing against him with intent.

“Cale, this is really not the place,” Laura says, longsuffering.

“Couldn’t even wait the twenty minutes it would take to get back to the house,” a masculine voice grumps. His soul father, probably.

Nate slides a hand beneath his open jacket, and Cale burns with it.

“Is there maybe a spare room they could use for a bit?” Gary asks someone, no one. Cale’s not sure. “I, for one, would prefer not to see their consummation.”

The words drag Cale from the haze of Nate, Nate, Nate, and he flushes when he cracks an eye open and sees their parents, several of the staff, and far too many teammates watching them with expressions that range from outright horror (all of the parents) to disturbing glee (EJ, who Cale thinks is holding a phone up, recording this).

“Oh my god,” he gasps, and Nate bites at his neck, teeth sharp over the thin skin. “Nate, we need to go. We can’t do this here.”

His only reply is a sucking kiss over his collarbone, where Nate has managed to undo the top buttons of his shirt. He has no idea where his tie went.

“Nate, there are people everywhere, _everywhere_ , and I think EJ is filming this.”

“I don’t care,” Nate grumbles, and he rocks his hips forward, grinding against Cale until he forgets what he said, forgets about everything outside of Nate and his mouth and his body, pressed hot and firm against Cale’s.

“Holy shit, they’re not going to consummate here, are they?” There’s an eagerness to the question that leaves Cale feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t be surprised if Nate’s into the whole public consummation thing; he’s a possessive bastard.”

Surprisingly, Nate seems to be aware enough to know what is being said around them. Unsurprisingly, he still does not give a fuck, and he plants a very obvious, very proprietary hand on Cale’s ass in response to the words, smirking against his lips like this is something to be proud of.

“Does that mean we can stay and watch?”

“Do you seriously want to watch two of our teammates fuck?” a new voice asks, disgusted.

And that’s the last straw for Cale.

Ignoring the needy whine Nate releases, he pulls back enough to turn towards their parents. “I’m sorry,” he pants, and there’s a foreign mixture of fondness and exasperation that rolls through him. Oh, that must be the bond coming in. “I would have preferred waiting until we got to the house,” Cale never thought scoffing could be an emotion, but that doesn’t stop Nate from sending him the emotional equivalent of a scoff, “but that’s definitely not going to happen now.”

Nate drags him back against his chest and mouths at his neck, completely shameless in front of the gawking crowd.

“We’re just going to take care of the consummation here,” he says, shaky as Nate licks around the shell of his ear. “Then go home.”

A deep contentment settles in his chest. Home, home, home. Our home.

Laura nods, eyes firmly fixed on Cale’s. “Good idea, we can talk in the morning.”

“Yes,” the woman beside her agrees. “We can get a room for the night, so they can have some space.”

Nate nips at his earlobe happily.

“You can use mine,” Cale tells them, reaching for his back pocket. Nate doesn’t seem to understand—or maybe doesn’t want to understand—and he presses his hips forward, angling them so Cale’s hand grazes over his stiff dick. Cale fumbles the wallet. “Here,” he says when he manages to remove his key card and hold it out. “My parents are staying at the same hotel, so you can ride back with them.”

The woman steps forward to take the key and smiles wryly. Nate sets his teeth more firmly against Cale’s jaw at the intrusion of their space, and Cale sighs.

“I’m sorry we had to meet this way, Mrs. MacKinnon.”

“Don’t apologize,” she says with a dismissive wave. “If it was up to you, I’m sure this wouldn’t have happened until you were home. My son can be very stubborn when he wants something though.”

Nate lays a hand over Cale’s stomach and grinds against his ass like he needs to remind everyone of what he wants right here, right now.

“Sorry,” Cale says again, cheeks a vivid red. “We’re just going to go find a room or something. Somewhere private where we won’t have a million people watching us.”

“There’s an empty training room down that way,” Gary tells him, looking more uncomfortable than Cale feels as he points down the hallway. “Third door on the left.”

“That’s so far,” Nate rumbles against his ear, and his fingers toy with Cale’s buckle, teasing over the metal.

“But private.”

“I told you I don’t care if people watch,” Nate reminds him, and he undoes the belt in demonstration of how little he cares.

Cale sets a hand on his wrist. “I do.”

Nate goes still at the words. Then, he nods once.

“Right. Bye Mom, bye Dad,” he calls and begins to walk them back in the direction Gary had pointed. “It was nice to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Makar. I would stay and chat, but your son is really fucking hot and I’d rather not wait to get him naked.”

“Nate!” a slew of voices shouts.

“What? It’s true. And anyways, they’re the ones who made him, so half the blame here should go to them.” He licks a wet stripe up Cale’s neck. “Maybe more than half, actually.”

Laura looks appalled, Gary embarrassed, and the MacKinnons both look resigned, probably used to Nate’s antics at this point.

“I’m sorry!” Cale shouts, a good thirty feet away. “We should get lunch tomorrow after practice and pretend like that’s our first meeting.”

They all nod emphatically.

“Bye,” Nate says again, and he pulls open the third door on the left and shoves Cale inside.

“Lock the door,” Cale tells him when they’re inside, stepping out of Nate’s reach so he can’t distract them.

Nate advances on him, gaze intent. “No one’s going to walk in,” he murmurs, and Cale holds up a hand to stop him.

“EJ will absolutely come in here with his phone and film us if that door isn’t locked.”

Groaning, Nate takes a step back and twists the lock. “Happy?”

“Almost,” Cale says and hops onto one of the training tables. God, he hopes this can hold both their weight and stand up to whatever they’re about to put it through. Finally letting the giddy arousal rush through him unhindered, he holds a hand out to Nate in invitation. “You ready?”

Nate crosses the room in a couple long strides, crawls onto the table, and braces himself over Cale. “So fucking ready,” he mutters hotly. “We’re going to consummate the fuck out of this bond.”

Cale crinkles his nose. “Romantic.”

A shiver of panic, not his own, runs through him. “Oh shit, are you into that?” Nate asks. “Because I’m not good with the romance thing, like at all. I’m so bad at that, so bad. I’m sorry in advance if I’m ever not romantic enough. Which is actually going to be all the time because I’m really not romantic.”

Shaking his head, Cale wraps an arm around Nate’s waist. “That’s okay. I’m not really into the whole romance thing either.”

Relief washes through him, through them. “Oh thank god, because I’m really bad at the flowers and chocolates thing.”

“Luckily, I don’t want those.”

Nate presses a kiss to the hollow of his throat, feather-light and delicate, a sharp contrast to the biting kisses from before. “What do you want?” he murmurs and drags Cale’s belt out of the loops.

“First,” Cale says, pushing at Nate’s jacket until it slides down his arms and onto the floor, “I want to consummate the fuck out of this bond.” A burst of humor and joy erupts in his chest. “And then, I want to win the Stanley Cup with you as many times as we can.”

Grinning, Nate pops the button of his slacks. “Sounds like a good plan to me,” he says, and Cale drags him down for a fierce kiss.


End file.
